Beautiful Stranger
by HodrichMaid
Summary: Italy has invited the nations to the colourful and exciting carnival in the beautiful city of Venice, where a beautiful stranger captures the attention of America... (Yaoi - BoyxBoy. If you don't like it, please don't read it. Thanks!)
1. Chapter 1

America sighed while rummaging through his costume wardrobe (Yes, he was such a partier that he even had an extra wardrobe for his costumes, now shut up!). He had been looking for a decent costume to wear to the Venice Carnival Italy had invited the nations to. Venice, huh? Then it probably was in the beach. America loved beaches (Oh, how he **loved** "beaches").

Anyways, back to the topic: He had been asked by Italy to wear something fancy with a mask, but the only thing he found was several Halloween costumes (including a skimpy nurse outfit that he didn't even know how it got there on the first place) and a couple Mardi Gras ones, but he didn't think that Italy would like if he dressed as a purple and green Joker like he did last year… Oh, boy, that was some party.

"America, are you home?"

Russia's voice sounded through the open window of his bedroom, which was right over the front door from where the Russian had called. After the Cold War and the fall of communism, he didn't even need to call Russia a commie anymore, so they started bonding together and found out they had a lot of things in common like… Well, like… Like that thing where… It was so… Ugh!

The point is that they became sort of friends, and he wasn't that creepy bastard Lithuania, Estonia and Latvia said he was. He was actually quite funny and they even had weekly Vodka drinking contests, where America sneaked a little of his friend Rohypnol into Mr. Russia's glass so he could win… It wasn't that he couldn't beat Russia without the use of potentially dangerous date rape drugs, but he didn't have the advantage of having grown up in a refrigerator-like environment that required him to drink Vodka and other strong beverages he didn't know of 24/7 in order to avoid freezing to death while walking down the street to buy some bread… Besides, it was wicked funny to see Russia waking up with his head against the table wondering what the hell had happened the night before. Chuckling, he stuck his head out the window and looked down: Russia was wearing his usual coat and scarf, but… This time the coat was navy blue and the scarf was white (Oh, he forgot to mention that Russia owned a lot of similar coats and scarves of different colors that he liked to wear when he came to America's house because he said that he was the only one who was worth to wear that for. That had made America feel a little flattered and then dizzy as they continued drinking their fourth glass of Vodka that night) and he was holding a large, black suit bag.

"Yes, Russia, I'm home"

Russia looked up with his big purple eyes, smiling his childish smile and America did the same… After a couple of minutes of silence, Russia started fidgeting with the end of his brand new scarf.

"Well, can you open the door, please?"

"Oh, right… Sorry, I forgot!"

America ran downstairs (Careful not to trip and fall like he had last time Russia was over and they had to rush to the ER with a head concussion and three broken ribs. He couldn't believe Russia had stayed all night next to him until he was discharged a couple days later. Not even England had done that, and his brother was away with his boss, but he had sent him flowers… A little too many flowers, America thought) and quickly opened the door.

"Come on in"

"Thanks"

Russia got inside and laid the suit bag over the couch in America's living room.

"May I ask you what that is?"

America asked, looking at the bag like if a Bengal tiger was going to jump from inside of it and eat his vowels while he was forced to watch… He had to stop buying the Saw movies anytime soon or they would rot his brain… More than it already was (Shut up!)

"I'm sure you have been stressing yourself over what to wear for tomorrow's Carnival"

That was another thing America liked about Russia. They seemed to have a telepathic connection. It was so awesome!

"Yes, aren't **you**?"

"No, because I've already picked my costume and that's why I came here today for"

America didn't understand (Shocker!) and Russia giggled before he could express his confusion.

"I took the liberty to bring a costume for you to wear"

"Really? Dude, you rock!"

America said excitedly while opening the suit bag and taking out a fancy burgundy and golden costume and a white mask. He looked at the costume and then at Russia, back at the costume and finally at Russia's excited face.

"Is this what I'm supposed to wear?"

"It is. I've already talked with Italy this morning and he told me what kind of costumes they wore there… Go ahead, try it"

America sighed and took the costume with him. Five minutes later, Russia was settled having a cup of warm tea and America came out of the bathroom wearing a fur-collared burgundy Dolman jacket with golden buttons, matching pants, white gloves, funny boots with red ribbons instead of laces and a white mask. In Russia's opinion, he looked handsome and very cute.

"How do I look?"

"Great. I think Italy will love this"

"He doesn't have to **love** it! **I **have!"

America snapped and sat down heavily on the carpeted floor with an annoyed huff muffled by the mask. He rested his head on his hand, looking at the ceiling while Russia sipped his tea.

"I don't want to wear this… It's stupid. It's something like England would wear"

Russia chuckled and America glared at him through the mask. He got up from his chair and walked to his American friend, patting him on the back.

"You look amazing, America… Besides, who says that dressed like that you are not going to find an equally attractive girl who likes guys with good taste in fashion?"

America considered this and remembered last week, when he was alone in his house and had started running through the large estate, singing "Leprechaun in the Hood" at the top of his lungs. Apparently, the song was written just for him: "Hadn't been laid in so long it's tragic!" He smiled, tore the mask off his face and got up with that heroic pose he had mastered through the years thanks to many superhero movies he had watched while growing up.

"Let's do it"

Russia chuckled and went to the kitchen to wash the cup and plate before leaving.

"Wait… What are you going to dress as?"

"As I said, I already have my costume"

"Well, how is it?"

"You'll see. Goodbye, America"

"Goodbye, Russia"

Russia grabbed his scarf (When had he taken it off?) and left the house, leaving America with his not-so-cool costume, but with a broad smile on his face at the idea of getting some ladies the next day. Oh, yeah, America was going to catch some flies with his web, he-he. Beware, bitches!


	2. Chapter 2

The Carnival was awesome and everybody was dressed so ridiculously good that America felt like he was going to blend in with his weird-ass costume. But he was kind of sad because the party wasn't on the beach like Italy had said… Maybe he was right and there couldn't be **two** beaches named Venice in the world.

"America, are you enjoying your first time in Venice?"

Italy asked excitedly, jumping away from Germany's tight embrace.

"It's really cool, dude. Congrats!"

"Thanks, although I don't know what the last word means!"

Italy exclaimed loudly, making America laugh. Suddenly, something bumped into him and he turned around to see the most beautiful spectacle ever (Considering he had been coming to every Mardi Gras celebration since the first one and was now in the middle of the Saint Mark's Square in the Venice Carnival): A beautiful girl was standing behind him, she was wearing a red and white lace crinoline with, white gloves, a red feathered hat and a golden eye mask.

"Forgive me, sir"

That voice and accent sounded awfully familiar to America, who couldn't think of anything while having that beautiful girl (Who was slightly taller than him, by the way) standing in front of him, looking all bashful and blushing.

"It's okay…?"

"Maria. My name is Maria, sir"

"I'm Alfred. Pleased to meet you, Maria"

He kissed her hand, making the girl giggle sweetly. He looked into her mesmerizing green eyes with a smile on his face.

"Let me say that you have the most beautiful costume, Maria"

"Oh, Mr. Alfred, you have a beautiful costume too. And I don't think that mine is the best around here"

"It is for me… And call me **Alfred**"

He whispered into her ear, making her blush darker (If that was even possible) and giggle, looking down at the floor.

"Thank you very much, Alfred"

America felt butterflies in his stomach when the girl said his name in such a sweet voice, which sounded like a whisper but was the only thing the love-struck American could hear.

"Why don't we go somewhere more private, Maria?"

Without waiting for a response, America took the girl's hand and led her carefully away from the crowd (Avoiding the looks, catcalls and whistles the other countries gave him) and to a gondola that was waiting to take some passengers.

They started sailing through the Grand Canal, observing the delightful spectacle in the Saint Mark's Square and the beautiful Venetian scenery. America started moving closer to the girl, who didn't seem at all offended by this and actually leaned closer! He caressed her soft cheek with his gloved hand and they both held their hands while connecting their mouths in a slow and passionate kiss. The girl tasted like strawberries and America loved strawberries! They started kissing deeper and his hands roamed over her covered thighs. She made a sound that made America's Florida spring to life. They broke apart for air and America took his chance to kiss down the girl's neck and attempt to take her mask off to reveal her beautiful face, but suddenly the gondola stopped and they realized they were back at the Saint Mark's Square.

"Sorry, I-I have to go. Thanks, Alfred… I will never forget you"

She grabbed his face with her hands and kissed him deeply, running away from the gondola without giving America time to realize what had happened.

"Wait, Maria…!"

The scarlet crinoline disappeared through the crowd and America sighed defeated. This couldn't be happening to him…


	3. Chapter 3

It had been almost two weeks since America was forced to forget about the girl he had fallen in love without even had seen her face! Anyways, he was hanging out at Russia's place and he felt a strange feeling when the Russian came back from the kitchen with some snacks he had decided to prepare for the hungry American… Who had just had dinner at McDonald's on his way, but he was always hungry, like any healthy man should be.

"There you go, America. I hope you enjoy it"

"What is it?"

America asked, feeling drawn to the food by its succulent aspect and delectable smell. Russia smiled, putting his hands behind his back like he always did when he expected someone's approval.

"It's an old recipe that Irina gave me. It is delicious. She was the Tsar's chef after all"

Russia said, shrugging and hoping America would like the plate he had prepared a thousand times, but never to him. America took a spoonful of the plate in front of him and moaned at the delicious taste of the candied yams. He had eaten something like this before but… Russia's plate was different, it had something he could not describe nor taste. But it was certainly different than others.

"Dude… This is delicious! You are a great chef! Thanks, man!"

America said excitedly while eating the food with delight, making Russia chuckle and unfold a napkin to put it over the American's lap so he wouldn't get crumbs on himself. America continued eating like a rescued castaway and Russia poured some tea for himself. Ever since China showed him how to make tea by himself, instead of having it done for him, he started drinking it like… Vodka. He even went for tea with England every Tuesday at five o'clock. They weren't exactly friends, but England wanted someone else than China to have tea with.

When America was done eating, the two of them started watching a random movie he had brought, because he didn't really like the Soviet cinema and Russia was slowly growing tired of it too, so they decided to watch America's favorite: Daylight. It was actually a pretty good movie, full of action and a little too loud, but Russia liked to see that stupid expression on America's face when he watched the car crashes and the tunnel's explosion. Suddenly, his face morphed into one of discomfort and slight pain and Russia paused the movie.

"Is something wrong, America?"

"Yeah… I think I ate too fast"

He certainly did, Russia thought to himself as he remembered the voracity with which America had eaten those yams in only a couple of seconds. It was a miracle how he managed to stay fit… But he was muscular, so he probably ate like a pig and then (Like he would say) "hit the gym" for a couple hours.

"The bathroom is upstairs, second door to the left"

"Thanks, dude"

"Just do me a favor. Remove the flowers from the bathroom, will you?"

America was a little confused but paid no mind to Russia's request, as he ran upstairs unceremoniously and inside the bathroom, which was painted white and spotless and had two flower vases with sunflowers, which gave the room the only colors. He rapidly took them out of the bathroom and laid them carefully over the Pembroke table in the corridor: The vases and the table looked like they had cost a fortune. America went inside the bathroom and came out a couple minutes later, whistling a merry tune and drying his hands on his pants (Because America's too badass to dry his hands on a stupid towel, bitches!). He put the flower vases inside the bathroom and jumped at the noise of a door slowly cracking open: It was Russia's bedroom door. He decided to explore it, as he had never been there (Nor did he ever had a reason for being in his bedroom). America walked inside the room, which was very spacious and nicely illuminated by the sunlight that went through the several windows. Like the bathroom, it had two expensive-looking vases with sunflowers over the two bedside tables at each side of his King-sized bed (How many pillows did that man needed to sleep?).

His eyes quickly landed on something that was clearly out of place: A short scarlet sleeve coming from the large closet's door. Not that Russia didn't have anything red, he had a scarf, a pair of gloves, boots and even a coat, but he didn't think he had anything short-sleeved. Even if he had, the sleeved looked like it belonged on a lady's closet. America grinned thinking that maybe his friend, Mr. Russia, was just a taller version of Poland (That would be awesome! But he still had to figure out why. But when he did…)

"What the hell?"

America opened the closet door and saw it: A scarlet and white lace crinoline with a black bow in the high cleavage. It looked just like…

"Can it be…? Maria's costume?"

America took it out from the closet and admired the dress that had been worn by the woman he had fallen in love at first sight during that wonderful masquerade at Venice barely two weeks ago. The dress worn by the woman who had broken his heart by running away from him after the most wonderful kiss he had ever had. The woman he had cried himself to sleep for. He felt his blood boiling when Russia entered the bedroom with that silly childish smile.

"America, you are missing the mo…"

A fist collided with his jaw, sending him flying against the wall. He looked up to see a panting, furious America with hate-filled eyes.

"What has that for, America?"

Russia asked, clutching his sore jaw and wiping some blood from his mouth. America pulled him up, grabbing him tightly around his throat and making him gasp for air with a confused and scared face he had never seen before.

"Why the fuck did you do it?! Why did you dressed as Maria in the Carnival?!"

"A-America, p-please…"

"You son of a bitch, you made me kiss you!"

He threw him to the floor and exited the room with a last glare to the crying Russian laying on the floor with rumpled clothes and a bruised face.


	4. Chapter 4

Back to his house (The one he had built in Europe), America paced back and forth around his library in the upstairs floor. The library was his favorite place in the house, because it was really quiet, didn't have a phone or TV and he always went there to think. He had already drunk almost a whole bottle of whiskey thinking and thinking about Russia, Maria, the kiss and… What he felt when he found out it was Russia. It was not betrayal… It was something he couldn't decipher, like the extra taste in his candied yams. Suddenly, it was like a dam had broken inside the confused American's head and he started swimming in thoughts about his friendship period with Russia… Cute and beautiful Russia, who made him feel warm on the inside…

"Oh God, what should I do?!"

"Just follow your heart"

America was startled when he heard a woman's voice and looked up to see Eleanor Roosevelt's painting overlooking him from the wall where it was hanging from.

"Eleanor?"

The woman huffed annoyed as the American approached the picture with a slow and unsteady pace.

"Turn around"

America did as he was told.

"Hungary!?"

Hungary was sitting on a tree branch right outside the library's window. America helped her inside and closed the window.

"Can you explain what **the hell** you are doing here?!"

"Look, America, we don't have that much of a relation, but I'm here to tell you what you have to do in this kind of situation"

"Hmm"

America said while making himself comfortable in the high-back chair behind his desk with a smirk on his face.

"So, let me see if I get this right: You were spying on Russia and I and, as Russia didn't give you any more dirty details from the Venice fiasco for yours and Japan's weird stories, you came to stalk me in my own house"

"Kind of, but the thing is that, while I was spying on Russia after you left, the most dramatic way possible, he received a call from his sister"

America paled and got up from his chair, with wide eyes he backed up against the wall.

"B-Belarus? That bitch is going to chop my penis off and…"

"Calm down, America!"

Hungary shook the panicking American violently and slapped him across the face, effectively calming him down and allowing him to think clearly (Something he hardly ever done before).

"No **that **sister, his **other **sister: Ukraine. I heard that Russia was going to ask his boss for an immediate transfer to the Russian Embassy in Kiev to work from there so he could "be away from his problems"… Can you believe we can choose an embassy in any country and work from there? I'm totally asking for a transfer to Vienna so I can…"

"Hungary, you are getting off topic!"

"Right, anyways, you should go before he catches the train to Kiev"

"Catching the train to Kiev?!"

America asked scandalized. Without waiting for a reply from the shrugging Hungarian girl, he grabbed his coat and exited his house, arriving to the train station a couple minutes later, since he lived relatively close to it.

"Excuse me, is there a train bound to Kiev?"

America asked the bored-looking ticket agent of Trans-European Train Lines, who chewed on her gum while looking through her computer in a painfully slow pace. America tapped his fingers impatiently over the desk, while resting his head on his hand and listening to the trains departing and arriving and the people, walking around the large building.

"Y-You know what? Forget it!"

America took off running towards the terminal.

"There is a train for Kiev… Leaving right now… Sir?"

The ticket agent sighed and lit up a cigarette, while America was pushing through the crowd in the best 1940's movie style. The people were saying goodbye to the departing train, in where his loved one was travelling. Quickly, he approached one of the windows, where he saw the distinctive beige hair and pink scarf. He threw a penny to the window, forcing Russia to look at him. Surprised, he opened it, colliding with the strength of the gelid wind that almost blew the scarf off his neck.

"America, I want you to know I'm sorry for…"

"Get off the train!"

"I can't…"

Violently, the train stopped, making Russia hit his head against the seatback in front of him. America winced. Inside the train, everybody was looking around to see what the hell had just happened, when a confused and angry Russian bumped into a tiny man, who only whispered.

"You can thank me later, Russia-san"

Russia chuckled when he detrained without being noticed. Russia followed him outside the old train and was enveloped by a couple of strong, bomber jacket-clad arms that hugged him from behind and pulled him against a firm, broad chest.

"Oh, Russia, I was so wrong… I wasn't truthful to you or myself"

"What are you talking about, America?"

"Russia, this time we shared as friends was marvelous, exceptional, beautiful, but… I've realized that I don't want to be **only** your friend"

"What?"

"I… I think I might love you Russia… And that kiss we shared in Venice, in the anonymity, was a door that you crossed to make your way into my heart"

A teary eyed Russian slowly connected his lips to America, who kissed back. Their lips forming pleased, content smiles and Russia's tears flowing like a river down his pale, soft cheeks that America had wanted to caress for so long.

Wait…

Did someone just squeal?

Oh, well. Bitches love hot guys making out in public. And his baby was the hottest guy around.


	5. Chapter 5

"Oh, America, this is beautiful…. This is… This is… What the hell is **this**, America?"

Russia asked, looking down from the hot air balloon in which his crazy boyfriend had planned their anniversary on. He was hugged from behind by said slightly mentally challenged person, who just whispered in his ear.

"Don't worry, baby. As long as we are together, nothing's going to happen to you. I promise"

Russia smiled and turned around to face his boyfriend.

"As long as we are not in Swiss airspace"

They started kissing, overflying the beautiful mountain scenery with the colorful balloon, which had been spotted by no other than Switzerland, who was watching intently with his binoculars, from his study window.

"Damn it! Where is Liechtenstein, I want my shotgun!"

He turned around and the girl had disappeared from her previous spot on the desk, reading a book about ancient African civilizations. She was obsessed with African history, and African men, too… Switzerland had wondered why would that be, but she certainly returned a little different from her trip to Congo, saying things like "Africa is certainly a **big** continent".

"Gretchen, where the hell is Liechtenstein?!"

"She and Mr. Latvia are doing gardening together and they're having so much fun, Mr. Switzerland. Do you want me to bring her here?"

Switzerland's maid, Gretchen, asked from her place next to the study door. Switzerland had his back at her but turned around to leave the binoculars over the desk with an annoyed huff and sat down on his chair.

"No, just bring me a cup of tea and some aspirins"

"Thank goodness he believed that"

Gretchen whispered, thanking the Lord he didn't even suspect what was going on with the two precocious kids near the fountain… Miss Liechtenstein was a little, how could she call her? Oh, yes: Naughty, but she was the picture of innocence in front of her stupid big brother, who was too blind to see through her.

"I'll bring your tea immediately, sir"


End file.
